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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064447">someone's heart is fluttering; someone's is breaking</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huflypuff/pseuds/Huflypuff'>Huflypuff</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Outer Banks (TV), The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Everyone is mentioned vaguely but never actually there, Friendship, Gen, I am not sorry, I have a lot feels, Shoupe has entered the pain train as well, So kie has a lot feels, This has turned into different views of canon event with the outsiders lurking, also the outsiders is v vague as well lmao, choo choo, he has joined the angst and toxic masculinity train, i lied there is another ch, kie is blaming herself the poor baby, maybe there will be another ch but I don’t think so, topper is the ch 2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:08:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064447</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huflypuff/pseuds/Huflypuff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kiara had read The Outsiders, had even watched the movie, she was pretty sure Mrs. Lenore her ninth grade English teacher had a crush on Rob Lowe, she knew how these things ended. Even so, she was still shocked, surprised, wounded when it ended exactly the way it was expected to.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Kiara</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have no idea what this is. I've never written anything before, but I am WEAK for the outsiders parallels in this dumb show. So I wrote something, because I have only seen a few things with mentions of them both. Also the title is paraphrased from a poem on google .</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She wasn’t stupid. </p><p>Mrs. Lenore brought the book out and practically threw it on her desk, like it <em>burned</em>.  No one in the class had read it before, partly because it was required reading and why would they have to read something they were going to be forced to read anyway. But, mostly because it was Kook city and no one had to be smart to get ahead, trust funds galore. </p><p>They were supposed to read the first three chapters within the month, more or less a chapter a week. She read the whole book within the day. She’d like to say that it was because she currently had no friends. Sarah had ditched her for god knows why, and her beautiful, lovely pogues... well she couldn’t bring herself to run back to them with a tail between her legs after she realized how it felt to be ditched. </p><p>So she read the first chapter and then the second, third, fourth, and suddenly she was at the end of the book sobbing. There were too many similarities for her to ignore, too many to pass off as a coincidence, too many to lie to herself about how it was just a <em>book</em>. But that was exactly what she did. She shook off the tears, threw the book under her bed and continued with her life. </p><p>In class, Mrs. Lenore tread with careful footing, not asking too many questions, or poking and prodding to connect with daily life like she normally did. Internally, Kie was screaming. She couldn’t understand how no one could see the similarities, how could they just sit there, tapping their pencil and checking their phone, when they were reading a parallel of their life? </p><p>Later, much, much later she would understand why they didn’t care. It was the same reason that John B. was lost at sea, the same reason why Mr. Heyward wanted, <em>needed</em>, Pope to get a scholarship, the same reason why Sheriff Peterkin died in the arms of her killers father. But it wasn’t that time yet, and Kie just sat there in confusion, wondering how no one could see it, if she was crazy, if she was the only one who cared. </p><p>It was that moment in time where she realized that even if she had to get on her hands and knees and beg for forgiveness, she would become friends with the pogues again. It didn’t matter what it took, she was determined that if life was against the greasers, the <em>pogues</em>, then they would need a kook on their side. </p><p>Everything after that happened too quickly to comprehend, too quickly to connect a plotline of a book she read well over a year ago, to stop and think, what was it about rich assholes and trying to drown people over their girlfriends. Clearly throughout this entire adventure, if you could call it that, she was not thinking. </p><p>But now, she was.</p><p>She was thinking too much, on the floor of her bedroom, face wet with tears, staring at a book that had too many similarities. This book that was practically the universe, God, whoever or whatever you wanted to believe in telling her, warning her about what was to come. Except she didn’t listen. She threw the book under her bed and wanted and hoped that she could make a difference. That Johnny and Dallas were just tragedies in a book, that was similar but not the same to her life. </p><p>Now she is in her room, also two friends down. Wondering if maybe, just maybe if she was a little smarter she could have seen this coming. </p><p>But instead she did a very Kook thing, and dismissed it. Because these types of things, injustices and tragedies, they don’t happen to girls like her, they don’t happen to good people, they happen to <em>others</em>, but never her.</p><p>And when you think about it, it didn’t happen to her. She could walk away anytime, get over it, and there would be no consequences. She wasn’t 25k in the hole like JJ, who had to go back to his good for nothing father. She wasn’t Pope, who most definitely lost his scholarship, after running away in the middle of the interview.</p><p>At the end of the day, she was Kie. A Kook playing at pogue, who could afford to ignore the warning signal that the outer banks was rotting from the inside out.</p><p>She was stupid. So very, very dumb.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Topper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is choppy because editing who? Also I think topper is very interesting. Maybe I should have made a whole new one shot story but I don’t care so oh well.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Topper thought it was ironic.</p>
<p>He knew you were supposed to identify, <em>sympathize</em> with the greasers. But he read one sentence and decided, who gave a shit about some poor asshole and how terrible his life was.</p>
<p>He sure as hell didn’t.</p>
<p>Obviously he read the assigned chapters when he was supposed to, if he hadn’t his mom would be on his ass about it, and that was more trouble than it was worth.</p>
<p>He didn’t give any more thoughts to the shitty little book, until a pogue stole his girl.</p>
<p>He was livid.</p>
<p>Sarah did the exact thing she said she wouldn’t and he was stupid enough to believe her. He knew her history, Sarah had a fondness for shiny new objects, like a magpie or a crow.</p>
<p>Her favorite part of the relationship was the very beginning, soft new feelings and butterflies in your stomach. The does-he-like-me-does-he-not stage, where everything was new and surprising and fun.</p>
<p>He tried so <em>fucking</em> hard to make it fun for her. And he knew, just knew she was getting bored, but he had hoped he could counteract that with, well, him. He was hoping he was enough, to break her out her habits.</p>
<p>He wasn’t.</p>
<p>He picked up the book, because it fell out of his bookcase after he punched a hole through his wall. It was mocking him, he could tell. Whispering that this was his penance for ignoring the plights of fictional class divides, and the subsequent lesson he could have learned.</p>
<p>That was bullshit, he scoffed. Then tossed it on his bed and decided that maybe he would take up Kelce on his dumbass idea of wallowing on his sofa and watching movies. He was always a fan of Gilmore Girls.</p>
<p>Then he was talking to the pogue who stole, no, <em>fucked</em> his girl. Because <em>of</em> <em>course</em> Sarah, sweet, easily bored Sarah, would lower herself to fuck a pogue, a criminal at that. He bet she’d come begging for forgiveness within the week.</p>
<p>He <em>hoped</em>.</p>
<p>Just as suddenly as talking to the pogue, he was talking to the pogue <em>and</em> Sarah. Faster than he could blink, he was ripping the pogue’s jacket off his shoulders and slinging it around his own, pushing them towards the back of the church.</p>
<p>The smoke was thick and cloying, his throat felt like he had swallowed gravel. But he wasn’t thinking of those things he was thinking sarahsarahsarah.</p>
<p>It was not his first time in the back of a police cruiser. It was, however, the first time he spent longer than an hour in a jail cell.</p>
<p>
  <em>Obstruction of justice and arson.</em>
</p>
<p>His mother said it like she had swallowed a lemon and gargled some vinegar. She looked like that a lot when confronted with his decisions. Then she was rambling about the charges being dropped, and poor Ward Cameron, how she knew that girl of his was trouble, how lucky that he was that he dropped her before getting himself killed.</p>
<p>His ears popped at that, like he was scuba diving or on an airplane. His mother loved gossip, so she was all too happy to share the torrid details of two 16 year olds dying.</p>
<p>Of course, his overly analytical mother didn’t understand why he slumped up to his room, without a word after he heard what had happened. He doubted she was capable of feelings in first place, never mind <em>empathy</em>.</p>
<p>The book was still haunting him, the universe pulling a cruel joke when he face planted directly onto the book and not his pillow.</p>
<p>He couldn’t figure out what was more ironic, that the pogue led Sarah to her death, or that <em>Topper</em> had let it happen.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Shoupe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don’t really like the end, but shoupe and peterkin have so much backstory that we don’t have and it’s KILLING me. Also editing is not a thing, so sorry bout that</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peterkin’s favorite book was The Outsiders.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She kept it on her desk like a taunt, or a victory. Said it was a reminder, a warning, of what a backwater town could turn into. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">She was never very subtle.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shoupe didn’t like her at first. All city words and dark skin. The fact that she took his job didn’t make her entrance anymore welcomed either.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He’d like to think he was a good cop, a good man. Then he met her.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had always had sticky fingers.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ever since he was a kid. Coming from the Cut it was a valuable skill. But then it turned into an itch under his skin. He’d see an object and could calculate how fast he could put it in his pocket, where all the cameras were, if the shopkeeper was watching or not.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was a rush, and for the very first time in his life he was good at something. It didn’t change when he was inducted into the sheriff’s office.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He started to think, ain’t no one gonna mind if some strung out junkie was missin his profits. Who gave a fuck, if they marked down some cash from a safe a dead man ain’t gonna see no more.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peterkin gave a fuck.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was how she died. She gave too many fucks about that Routledge boy and he turned on her. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Possibly.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John B. ain’t a bad kid, he knew that. He always kept an eye on JJ more. But that was more about the fact that one of these days his ole man was gonna kill him. A jail cell was better than broken bones, he knew that personally.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was blinded, though.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peterkin was gone, gone, gone. All he could see was her blood on Cameron’s hands. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ironic.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">John B had a history with Cameron, he was on the run from attempting to kill the man. Cameron was the only one who stuck around to call for help. Cameron was a kook who had more money than god. Cameron was on his way to who knows where, directly after being the sole witness to the sheriff’s death.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peterkin was dead.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t need more evidence than the word of the man who saw it happen.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bringing in help left a nasty taste in his mouth. But it’s what Peterkin would’ve done. So that’s what he did.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cameron wasn’t happy about it, said they didn’t outsider help for one sixteen year old. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">A sixteen year old who killed the sheriff. Shoupe had said in low tones. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Cameron was sweating too much for the cool air that was swirling around that morning.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Agent Bratcher was cool, calm, and collected. Shoupe felt like a undereducated red neck next to him. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Peterkin would’ve loved him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Bratcher had hawk eyes. He asked too many questions and didn’t get nearly enough answers. He saw John B as a scared kid.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">For a very long moment Shoupe had forgotten that John B was exactly that, a scared kid.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Then he and his girlfriend were dead.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The chances of them surviving were little to none and no one liked to see kids die. He could see the blame in Bratcher’s eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But he didn’t need it from him. He could he feel it on his own. He could smell it in the air. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He would’ve let JJ hit him, he deserved it.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Two kids were dead because of him. Peterkin was in the morgue. And all that was left was Ward Cameron looking much too pleased for just having his daughter shipwrecked.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn’t move a thing on Peterkin’s desk, it would never be his desk, always hers. The Outsiders will stay proudly displayed as a memory of what their backwater town had turned into, no longer a warning.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
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